I let out a humorless laugh, tipping the mimosa glass toward my lips again before shaking my head. “Okay, so, as you know, I made out with Carter. Actually, no, I grinded on Carter. I almost got myself off in his lap, then he stopped like an actual asshole.”
“I CAN’T BELIEVE HE STOPPED!!!” Layla screeches loud enough to rattle the salt shaker, her entire body launching forward. She’s flailing her arms dramatically, nearly tipping her mimosa as she bounces in her seat with enough force to shake the table.
“Unreal.” Amelia hisses, toying with her straw. “You’re telling methatman—Mr. Broody Blue Eyes, with the steel rod shoved up his ass—kissed you and ran away?”
I groan, dragging a hand down my face, hiding behind my mimosa “Believe it, bitch. It happened. And it was... a lot.”
Layla slaps both hands onto the table, blue eyes practically glowing. “I fucking knew it!” she hisses. “I’ve been saying it from the second I saw you two look at each other like you wanted to maul one another. There’s so much sexual tension between you two I could bottle it and sell it as a damn perfume.” She lets out a soft giggle. “Now tell me everything.” She leans in so fast her wavy blonde strands bounce into her mimosa, and she doesn’t even notice. “Couch? Wall? Floor? Kitchen counter? Did he lift you? Did you cry? Didhecry? Was it filthy? Was itlike... filthy?”
Amelia rolls her eyes, sipping her drink. “This is bad. This is bad,” she mutters, glaring at me over the rim of her glass.
I glare at Amelia, shoving my half-drunk mimosa aside so hard it sloshes. “Wow, okay, skank, why is this bad exactly?”
She lifts her hands, placating. “No—I mean, it’s hot,” she admits, “but it’s also so fucking messy. Your dad’s gonna lose his damn mind if he finds out. He wants you married off to some guy with a last name that looks good on a Forbes list, not some broody rancher who sells cows for a living.”
I roll my eyes so hard I practically see my trauma. “My dad wants me married off to some finance bro with a yacht and a cocaine problem. He doesn’t get a say.”
Amelia raises a brow. “Bitch, he owns your fucking bank account. What makes you think he won’t fucking riot when he finds out?”
“Ameliaaaaaaaa, stop.” I whine, throwing my head back.
Layla is still bouncing in her seat. “Okay, okay, okay—forget your goddamn dad for a second,” she demands, grabbing my forearm with her sparkly acrylics digging into my skin. “Was it the kind of kiss that makes your toes curl and your panties soaked? Did he growl? Did he bite? I swear to God, Catalina, if you don’t tell me everything, I’ll combust right here in this booth.”
“Layla!” I hiss, glancing around like someone might hear us, even though we’re surrounded by cowboys who do not give a shit. My cheeks blaze so hot I’m surprised the table doesn’t catch fire.
Amelia lifts one brow and takes another slow sip of her drink. “That’s a fucking yes.”
I groan and slump back against the booth, tossing my head against the cushion, covering my face with my hands. “Ugh. It was... everything.”
Both of them lean in like I just revealed the cure to depression.
“Like,” I say, pulling my arm down and stare at the ceiling like I can still see him there, “the kind of kiss that makes you forget where you are, what day it is, what yourlast name is. The kind that makes your stomach drop and your brain malfunction. Almost like you’re falling and floating at the same time. His hands on me, his mouth on mine—fuck.”
Layla lets out a sound that might be a squeal, a sob, or some combination of the two. She’s fully clutching her heart like I just read her a smutty poem.
“Did he say anything? Like, you know—dirty stuff? Come on, IknowCarter Hayes has a filthy mouth. Please tell me he whispered something that made you question your moral compass.”
My whole body shivers just remembering it, my lips part like I might say something, but I quickly shut my mouth, just to get on Layla’s nerves.
Layla gasps. “Catalina! Don’t you dare leave me fucking hanging. Was he huge? Did he grind on you? Did you see his cock print? I need facts, bitch. Data. Measurements.”
I bury my face in my hands. “You’re disgusting.”
“And you love me. Now, spill bitch.”
I peek up at them, cheeks still pink. “Let’s just say… he wasveryenthusiastic. With his hands, his mouth. And yeah—there was some dirty talking. The filth that spews out of that man made me combust on sight.”
Layla’s eyes go wide. “WHAT DID HE SAY?!”
“He said,” I mumble into my glass. “You gonna soak my lap like a needy little slut?” I say, gripping the glass tighter.
Amelia snorts. “Sounds like he was about five seconds away from snapping and dragging you across the counter.
I nod. “Pretty much.”
Layla’s practically convulsing with joy. “OH MY GODDDDD!!!” she claps. “And then what happened?”
I sit up straight, crumpling the napkin in my hand. “And then… heapologized.”
